


Landfill

by LiCHT (lnterplay)



Series: Landfill Archive [1]
Category: Durarara!!, Vocaloid
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, M/M, Masochistic!Len, Multiple Bruises and Bitemarks, Mutual Masturbation, POV Second Person, they run out of milk...........oh no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lnterplay/pseuds/LiCHT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">"You gyrate onto your side and move to crawl under your pillow. It’s cold on the backside, it feels quite relaxing against your burning arm. You feel your heart once again trying to dig its way out, right through your ribcage and out your back. You debate momentarily to call Masaomi. You decide against it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small">Second person/Kagamine Len's POV.</span><br/><span class="small">Based off old crossover inspired by MasaLen RPs.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Landfill

**Author's Note:**

> no revisions or beta. pardon errors.   
>  could possibly be read as a kida x reader fic, if you try hard enough.

You're laying on your back. Or your side. You can't really tell at this point, breathing shallowly, mind floating above you. So above that you'd consider yourself high if you didn't know any better. Registering the the lack of the opposite dip on the bed, you tell yourself that you're alone again and your heart bitterly spasms inside your chest and you didn't know internal organs could twist in such ways. It makes you hiccup and sit up, but it was stupid of you to get mad since you also went to bed alone.

That was when you realised you were indeed laying on your back, which isn't something you're fond of, because when you wake in that position you often have the feeling that the day is going to be bad, with the heavy pressure of gravity pushing down on you, and on more than one occasion you recall crying and physically clawing at the bed instead of dragging yourself out because it was much easier to roll over and let yourself be crushed under the weight of the world rather than push back against it. 

So you do that. You gyrate onto your left side and move an arm slowly to crawl under your pillow. It's cold on the backside, and it feels quite relaxing against your burning arm. You feel your heart once again trying to dig it's way out, though. Right through your ribcage and out your back. 

You debate momentarily to call Masaomi. 

You decide against it, looking at your phone. That was when the time struck you. 

Six in the morning is too early to be up. 

Six in the morning is the time that parents wake up and make coffee and kiss their spouses goodbye as they leave for work with a piece of toast from their mouth. Six in the morning is the time that artists wake up with their taboo lovers and glimpse out the window and watch the sunrise with green tea in one hand and a heart in the other. Six in the morning is the time that the morning security show up for work and do their do their daily rounds. Six in the morning is the time that new students hop out of bed with a gleam in their eyes and a sparkle to them that nothing seems to dull, and start to get ready for their day - whether or not it's winter break holds no relevance to their schedule. Six in the morning is the time that people with self respect and jobs and hobbies and a life get up and do what they're expected to do.

Six in the morning is not the time that you wake up. Six in the morning is not important to you, nor has it ever been. Six in the morning is simply six in the morning, and six in the morning is too goddamn early to be awake. 

You can't sleep, though. You wait another fifteen minutes and try to coax yourself into a deep rest once again. At least for another two hours. Because eight is a reasonable hour to you. Eight is good. You like eight; the number is similar to infinity, and you like infinity. Because it goes on forever, and it doesn't die out. It doesn't break. It crosses and curves and your paths cross another but it never breaks. 

Why can't you sleep in til eight? 

You still don't want to get out though. You're awake, you knew that since you first opened your eyes, and you're not going to be able to fall asleep without help anytime soon. You're well aware that as the sunlight sweeps into your room, the urge to pee breaks into your bladder and threatens to blow it up if you don't bolt for the bathroom in the next two seconds. 

Then you're up. You take care of your business, flushing, hiking your flannel pyjama pants back up and turning to wash your hands. In your sleepy stupor, you bang your hip against the edge of your bathroom counter, and stumble back hissing under your breath. That was probably the most painful experience of your life. That. Right. There. Nothing was worse than something like that. Except maybe a papercut, but your fingers have grown so long and slender that it's all stretched skin and anything breaks it enough to bleed. It's to say, that you've grown accustomed to paper cuts. 

You manage to wash up and get a good look at the hit to your hip, and you poke at it. It's throbbing and red and a little swollen, and it makes you hiss loudly. But you don't stop poking at it. You pinch it a little and pull, cursing, and that sends a surge of pain tickling your spine. A second or two later, it's past a minor uncomfortable feel, and that makes you stop.

You figure it's gonna bruise up pretty well. Not just because all your bruises do, but in your little act of examination, you've practically ensured the area to turn dark purples and blues and greens in a matter of hours. You don't mind, however. You like your bruises. Even the one that you got that one time on your lower thigh from getting kicked during gym (although you felt sore on your rump for a while and was difficult to sit down during the rest of the week).

Food is the next thing that calls to you when you march out of your room, with your cellphone in hand. But you're too preoccupied with your little battlewound and the time of day to make anything other than a small cup of hot chocolate with those little marshmallows you like, topped with a small amount of whipped cream. Another reason you hated mornings is that it left you alone to think and remember things. And hot chocolate isn't as good alone, you remember often persisting in attempts to have masaomi join you in a cup whenever he'd visit. It was easy to see the want in his eye, but it was also evident in his hazel gaze that as much as he wanted it, he wanted you to get it. So you figured it would be okay for a while. It'd be your thing. He did plenty of things for you, and you were happy to do something for him. And it got him to stay longer. 

But then after a while he declined your hot chocolate themed advances for an at-home date in favour of doing different things. Taking you to movies and quietly asking if you wanted to sit in the back which resulted in lots of sloppy makeouts; inviting you to McDonalds forgetting you were a vegetarian at the time and letting you eat a salad and his fries while he pigged out on a burger or two which left him feeling bloated and wanting to drop you off at home so he could go and sleep at his own place. 

And then even that escalated. He'd take you to movies, but there'd be no touching. His friends would randomly show up and they'd talk throughout the whole movie. He'd take you out, but leave you to eat while he flirted with girls who were there at the time. He claimed often that they were friends from school he knew; that they were just catching up. You always noticed the phone numbers on his wrist, regardless. 

Soon after, you wanted to confront him about it. No, you hadn't specifically laid down any rules, hell, you never even confessed many feelings. The attraction on your part just showed up one day and stuck itself between your legs and laughed and blushed just like you did whenever he was around and then one day he just kissed you out of the blue and then it grew to more kissing, then more heavy kissing, then more heavy touching while kissing. It all made your head spin and it felt like doves were set off in your stomach. So you thought there was something there. Some sort of unspoken bond. 

Though the more you thought about it, it seemed like he wasn't really as committed as you fooled yourself into thinking. So you dismissed any reason to confront him about anything first. You were chicken shit, for one, and two, you thought you could handle it. Maybe it really was just fooling around, and you were just delusional. Wishful thinking on your part. That seemed to happen a lot. But you could handle it, whatever it so happened to be.

Maybe he was just more into "the boobies". You wonder if he'd met your sister before. You suppose not, he'd probably stop talking to you altogether for her, and that made you grind your teeth. She was you, but more like him. Softer, mild. But still similar. And female. Definitely female. You'd bathed with her growing up and unlike what you believed then in your childhood (that she just got her ding-dong stuck in something and the doctors had to cut it off), she was definitely female in every aspect. 

You barely stop yourself from nipping your lip off. You've been biting it through your internal turmoil while waiting for your hot chocolate to cool off and the familiar taste of something metallic stained across your tongue. You more often than not lost yourself to your thoughts when it was this early, on the occasion you did wake up sooner than you should, and when you did, you practically walked away without half a face to yourself. 

Setting your mug on the coffee table, you unravel the blanket from the back of the couch and hike to the kitchen for some Tylenol PM. Hopefully it'll subside the throbbing in your hip and head and knock you out for a few more hours at the same time. The thought is peaceful enough. And you rarely take medicine, so when you do, it does wonders. 

You take it with water and come back to your mug, and drink about half the cup before the feelings of drowsiness cling to your skin like a thick sweat and drag you down under the warmth of the blanket. You set the alarm clock on your phone to repeat every half-hour, on the spot, starting at ten. You text Masaomi that he's welcome to come over whenever, that the extra key is where it always is, but end up saving the text to your drafts. You're obviously getting your hopes up, even though you tried to sound less excited and more irritated in the text, like if he came over he would get his ass handed to him. You hoped it'd make him come. But you give up without even trying, and shove the electronic away with a scowl and roll over and climb under the blanket as deep as you can, engulfing yourself in the heat and succumbing to much welcome unconsciousness quickly.

It was about half past noon when you finally drag yourself back out of hazy dreams. Goosebumps litter your skin from the chill of waking and are stark white dots against your pale peach complexion. Your heart thuds and aches when you have enough consciousness to fully comprehend that you are indeed awake and you feel a little tempted to drown yourself in that entire bottle of tylenol and sleep the week away, but you don't. You weren't even up for moving, really. It was too cold and you were honestly too comfortable under the blanket, nestled up tight and so a groan at your conscious level slips past.

Sleep was something your life seemed to slowly succumb to. You hardly even sing anymore and you were built for that shit. Literally. The fact might actually disturb you if you could get out of your self loathing bullshit but you really just don't care. You don't have many things to care about in general.

So of course since something came along and whispered nothings in your ear and flirted and kissed you and made you feel all right again, you weren't about to just let it go.

You hunch over when you finally sit up, probably fifteen minutes later. You feel dry and sticky in your mouth so you lick the roof of your mouth and cringe. Mucus. That was disgusting. 

The next thing you do almost automatically is reach for your phone. You expected the very least at this point and the knowledge that there is nothing there makes you waryn to save yourself the pain.

But then your phone flashed. 

Meaning someone left a message.

It was like lightning how fast you had woken yourself up and flipped your phone open.

[2 New Message: Masaomi, ...]

Shocked was an understatement. Excited wasn’t even a word in comparison to how you felt. You were practically bouncing in your seat, like always when you got messages from him. Even the ones that were sent to cancel on your hangouts with each other would at first make you jittery, because any message made you thrilled. Yet after reading the contents of some, it was hard to stay thrilled. Amazing how it was that he could give and take away your happiness in a single text, with less than one-hundred and sixty characters. Perhaps you should brace yourself beforehand when it comes to his texts more, but it never crosses your mind before you’re clicking open the text quickly and reading through the first message sent around ten.

[ I have no plans in the morning, can I come over around one? ]

You sigh to yourself because he texts like an old-man. You couldn’t tell from his normal outward disposition, and you wonder softly biting your thumbnail why he didn’t just call you, because texting isn’t something he’s fond of. You look at the time on the corner of your screen and sigh because you probably missed your chance, it’s half past noon already and he’ll have stuff to do soon. He’s always busy as of recent in the evening, so you delete the message, blinking at the second message popping up from about an hour earlier. It’s a voicemail, left from Masaomi.

So he did call, and you didn’t answer. Can’t say this is the first time you haven’t picked up, but usually you don’t because you’re nervous and miss your time. You text him short afterwards, but like him you’re not super fond of the action.

Almost predicting the action, before you can put your phone down it rings. You glance at it, and it’s from Masaomi again. Your heart throws itself into your neck and you click to read, and oh. Oh, oh, shit. He said he’s almost there, to your apartment. He used to come over all the time, he’s spent the night before after drinking a little too much even though he’s underage. His excuse was that it was a hard day, and he’d kissed you sloppily and it tasted gross, like beer, and he passed out on the couch and you slept on the floor that time, too worried to leave his side. He wrote a note before leaving but you were awake, you guess he just didn’t notice with his hangover. 

But you haven’t been hanging out with each other as much recently, and you’d let your place get messy in that time. Clothes everywhere, a few empty bottles of water and bags of food. You hopped up, then, and hauled ass to get ready, bounding around. Bathroom first, brushing your teeth, before elegantly leaping to your room to pick up around and get dressed. It took ten minutes and you’d just got to pick up the last piece of trash around before there was a knock at the door and you felt like a startled cat, hairs standing on end and stomach flipping.

You feign ignorance, clearing your throat and asking who it was, only to hear a loud groan and a complaint that it’s cold outside before you roll your eyes, laugh and run to open the door. You’re greeted with the harsh chill of cold and Masaomi steps in quickly, shedding his coat and hanging it up next to the door, discarding his shoes soon after.

Your heart aches at the vision before you; for the vision before you.

He’s leaning in towards you and you back away and feel your heart sink as you pretend to brush off the action like you didn’t see what he wanted. It seems to work and he shrugs off the cold stepping in further, taking a seat on the couch where not too long ago you’d been asleep. You sit next to him and he scoots closer leaning back and against you, throwing an arm behind your neck and pulling you against him. 

He lets out a breath of his own. “You’re a mess, what happened? Wake up too late?”

His tone makes you tense at first. It’s light but his words hit a bone and you realise that you haven't brushed your hair or put it up at all. Then the little smirk he throws in when he finished his sentence took you in a whole nother direction. You thought it was nice that he noticed you were disheveled and might have been worried or overthinking things, things that meant he still cared and was attracted to you the way you were so head-over-heels for him, but it was too obvious again that you were sleeping. And he doesn’t even bother to ask why you were asleep in the first place.

You don’t tell him that, you just say you’ve been lazing around all day with nothing to do. He seems to believe it.

He’s standing up again, and you go to fix your hair. By the time you get out, he’s decked out in his coat and shoes again, and you figure he wants to go somewhere. It’s been a long time since you guys hung out together, it feels like. You give him a questioning look and he smiles and throws your own gear at you, which you dress up in reluctantly. At least it cleared up the thought that he wanted to leave after just getting here. But his aura and yours are on two completely different spectrums that it’s clashing, suffocatingly so. 

You realise when you get decked out that it’s going to be cold outside and it’s going to make you whine and you’re going to be even more tired. You’re like a lizard or something, it’s honestly ridiculous. Regardless, you put it all on and head out with him.

Both of your hands are in your pockets, and you notice his are dangling at his side. Taunting you, really, but you don’t know if it’s safe waters to hold them and you don’t want to test it, lest a shark pop out and ruin the mood. You inhale and exhale and almost marvel at the amount of breath you can see in the air, and try to recall few years or so back to when you learned about why you can see your breath on cold days. But it escapes you for the moment and you glance over to Masaomi yet again.

It’s only from the corner of your eyes, but you can see him thinking about something. His lips are pursed and a chill runs through you watching the small tufts of his breath come out his nose. You both crunch through the snow and you pitter around the idea that it’s probably going to snow again soon, and rub your hands around in your pockets thinking it would have been better to bring a heavier jacket as well.

Head turning just a little further to look at Masaomi, taking in his features and hoping to read some about what he may be thinking, continuing on your path to wherever he’s leading you, he  glances at you and raises an eyebrow and it sends a heat to your face. That was creepy, Len, you’re creepy. That must be what he’s thinking now, and he stops in his pace. You mock his expression of confusion, and you’re both standing there with single eyebrows raised, lips slightly parted and heads tilted off to the sides. You both look dumb and when the realisation rolls over you it knocks you a step back with a chuckle, and it only makes Masaomi look at you even weirder. 

“Len…” 

You’d started turning off about to gesture for him to come forward, but his voice calls you back. You turn slightly to see what’s going on but all you get is a view of him blowing air out his nose, hands by his face and when you ask what he’s doing, he simply looks at you and opens his arms out wide. 

He speaks as if you should know, “I’m a dragon, Len!”

A moment looking at him, then to his continuous efforts at trying to make large breaths of hot air exit through his nostrils, and then back to his scrunched up face and you can’t help but laugh. This kid is a dork, and you really want him. You wanna hold his hand and sit close to him and have messy kisses and let him sleep with his head in your lap while you play with his hair. Because you’re really gay. You’re so gay that your gayness is off the charts. Unmeasurably gay. And it’s all for Masaomi.

All his attempts in vain, he seems to go a little light headed and waits standing in the same position, shaking his head a little before nudging you onward a little. You start up walking and easily fall into step with him again, this time on of his hands hand snakes it’s way into your pocket and wraps around your own. You make a halfhearted complaint that his fingers are too cold, but he retorts that it’s easier to keep warm with skin-to-skin contact and winks and that makes you heat up and look down at the ground feeling the blood pool in your cheeks. Even your eyes feel warm and you fret that if it gets any hotter your stare will be enough to melt all the snow in the world. The ice caps are going to melt. Water levels will rise. Japan is the first to go, next Hawaii, it all happens in a matter of minutes. Amazing.

Like that, you guys walk for a while. You never really asked where you were going in the first place, maybe it was just for a walk. The fresh air felt good, though the cold bit every inch of you it seemed. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind how the weather seemed to change and get colder but now it is.

“Did you sleep well last night?” 

You’d been caught up in mindless thoughts again, so the question out of the silence sort of threw you off. It didn’t register completely, at first, and so you snap up and accidentally reply backwards.

“Thanks—,” You stutter a little bit, flustered at your mistake, and Masaomi laughs. “I mean, yeah... I think I did.”

He takes a breath and grins, his gaze meeting yours for a moment, and he seems to freeze before speaking up again, “I’m gonna go get something to drink, okay?”

You ask where he intends to get something to drink and he points over to a small “Hot Foods” vender sitting out by the street. Before you didn’t see, but now you notice you’d both started walking through a park. It was a short cut to a movie-rental place, one of the few left in the city and you figure he intended to get something to watch before he had to leave. His hand leaves your pocket and he takes off in a small jog to the vender and you let your feet sink into the snow.

An irritated huff escapes your lips, before you hold in your breath altogether. Because why couldn’t he just take you out to a movie? You’d been out to movies before, you liked when you went out together because it made it feel like a real relationship. Something you didn’t really have to hide. You look up and spin in a few circles waiting for Masaomi, trying to think about just what you’re in. A relationship or just some Friends-with-Benefits? You’d like to know, either way. It was fine for awhile, that you had no label to go buy, but the longer time goes on the longer you’re unsure about it all.

Suddenly you find yourself face first in the snow. You're not quite registering what's happening. You had to of taken a wrong step, and fallen, but you don’t remember stepping and you don't remember falling. So you lay there for a second, probably a strange sight to the other people around, except there aren't people really around, it's just you and Masaomi at this park, and that vendor, and you don't know where he's at because when you glance at the wagon, he’s gone, and some other couple are buying pretzels.

You roll over, already feeling the nippy red across your face. You're getting soaked with the melting snow, but you don't care. Masaomi probably left, and you have no other will to go on. So long, world.

You wonder for a moment, what if you could be a flower? Something everyone gawks over because you’re so pretty. Something people won't discriminate against just because of gender. Or do they have no gender? Either way. You don't seem to mind, you just want to be the floral decoration that lines the parks and not dwell in pain or feel love or need romance or attention or touching because you really hate it all that stuff. Rather, you hate that you need it; that you flat out crave it. That the need crawls up like bile from your stomach out your throat and doesn't make its exit right away; instead kissing your tongue softly saying Hello I've arrived, and things do not taste any better coming back up then going down. 

You just want to die.

You want the snow to cover you like the plants and crush you, freeze you from the inside out with its white embrace.

So you resign yourself to that.

Except that's when Masaomi decided to make a comeback. Your body is slightly trembling yet you choose not to notice. The crunch of snow next to your ear is enough to make you force your eyes open though it was obvious you wanted to keep them closed. You feel bags under your eyes,  blue hues glancing up into honey ones. He’s holding some cups, probably hot chocolate.

You blink and Masaomi kneels down beside you. He looks a little shaken, but you can’t tell if it’s just annoyance or the cold getting into him. He asks if you’re okay, to which you reply with a sort of snotty tone that  you are, and he flinches back almost in instinct. You wonder if you struck a nerve, but instead he’s glancing up to the sky again and cursing silently. 

“You’re so over-dramatic, I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”

Like he’s one to talk! His words make you grit your teeth and you push yourself up quickly. “Look, I can take care of myself, masaomi."

You’re louder than him, yelling, but he's a little quicker to reply and it sends you looking down at your lap in shame.

"What the hell has gotten into you! You don't reply to my texts because you're busy, I got that. You don’t answer my phone calls because you're tired. I get that too. But by God almighty, I swear, if you're upset about something just fucking say it already, because quite frankly, I’m getting sick of your bullshit." 

You have half the nerve to punch him in the face. In fact your hands clench the snow at your sides and unclench repeatedly a few times. You strain your drowsy eyes to look up at him again, and manage the best glare you can through tears that seem to want to escape suddenly. No-no, little guys, go back to resting inside, you don’t want to cry right now. You raise a fist at him, enraged, twisting it in the front of his jacket and pulling him close. There aren’t tears anymore, and you fill the void with an anger, letting all your passion into one fitting message:

"I’m not upset about anything, I’m confused!"

Your voice is heavy and your breathing matches his, decreasing even though it’s getting harder to relax, and your artificial heart pounds fast and you can't help but stare at his lips as your own tremble at the idea of using this space that’s too-close as an advantage, but it seems like sir-sarcasm has his own idea. He leans down and you lean up and your lips barely brush and that's all it take before the wildfire in your gut is ignited and the smoke flits up straight to your brain. It make you nauseous and woozy and fogs up your sense of right and wrong and you just feel yourself slipping. That’s all it takes and you're so relaxed again and the world slips from beneath you. You hear cups drop and feel warmer hands at your face and after a moment more you pull away, everything about you red and cold and hot at the same time. 

You've got it bad for this boy, Len Kagamine. and you're certain that he is going to be the literal death of you.

By the time you actually get home, you’re shaking, teeth clattering together, sounding kin to glasses clinking harshly against each other when knocked. You’re cursing under your breath lowly, swearing the next time you both go out in the snow like that to at least wear a heavier coat, to which Masaomi snorts that you wouldn’t be so freezing if you didn’t lay on the ground for so long. Regardless, you tell him to punch you in the gut if you do that again. He rolls his eyes.

The other didn’t buy another set of hot chocolate after you “made” him drop the first pair onto the snow. Not that you were complaining about that. You just wanted to get home quickly because you were shivering and needed to change before you got sick or froze to death. Going to the movie rentals was skipped altogether, only with slight complaint from Masaomi. Turns out he only wanted to rent the new action thriller that he missed seeing in theatres, so you’d rolled your eyes and said you’ll get it some other time. Not much a fight, he agreed it was more important for you to get changed, in the end.

You take off to your room a few seconds after Masaomi makes himself at home and close the door wearily behind you. You let out a deep breath and try to remember the last time anything like that had happened. It was definitely a while ago, probably when this whole fiasco first formed a conga-line of emotions and danced right into your life; the crowd took you captive by storm and it wasn’t long until you realised you were stuck between all the messy, sweaty clumps of feelings and it was suffocating and stinky where you were at. It was even worse knowing that Masaomi was probably watching over the spectacle with a sadistic smile, not as lost as you were.

You wonder briefly just where that conga-line turned into a mosh-pit of misplaced sentiment, but it’s already over for you because you’ve been punched in the gut and are out on the ground.

The voice on the other side of the door startles you and you jump away. There’s one knock before it asks if you’re decent and you can’t help the heat in your face that seems ten times warmer because yes, you’re decent, but you haven’t changed. You’ve been sitting in turmoil for who knows how long trying to figure out so much and nothing at all at the same time. You’re weak to reply but you don’t say much before he comes in anyways.

He gives you the once-over before rolling his eyes, side of his mouth curving up in a smirk hiding something. You move to lean against the wall, looking at him as he goes straight to your dresser and you wonder if he came in to talk to you about something but you still haven’t found the ability to grasp the concept of how to steady your thoughts so it’s probably useless even if he wanted to converse.

A finger taps at your forehead and you look up as he speaks. 

“Hello, earth to Len, anyone home?”

You swallow back a complaint when he pushes a set of dry clothes into your chest. Argument converting into a “thanks”, you wonder if he’d like something warmer to dress in, but you can’t find it in you to ask.

“Get changed quickly, or something,” The look on his face was something like anger again, but that’s not exactly it. It’s not an emotion you’re familiar with seeing, that is, and it’s hard to make out. “I don’t want you to blow a fuse because you’re soaking wet.”

Masaomi turns his back to you and you figure this is probably the only privacy you’re going to get right now, so you nudge yourself off the wall and move to your bed and strip out of your clothes, bottoms first since they’re clinging uncomfortably to you all around your thighs. The warmth of the room hits your skin as soon as they’re off and you’re putting on a fresh pair of boxers and flannel bottoms that are soft on the inside and start to warm you up right away.

Hands ruffle your slightly damp locks and you hear a grumble before the sound of footsteps out of the room, probably leading up to your kitchenette. You don’t really bother to look around and you take off your shirt, feeling it peel off of your chest brings you a chill and a feeling of relief. You hadn’t realised before how often today you seemed to zone out, but every time you did it was like Masaomi was right there to bring you back and you’re thankful again. Your face is a little red from heating and your skin turns colours in little splotches and you decide to put your shirt on and warm up quickly.

You turn to walk out of your room now, thinking again about the tone of voice and the expression Masaomi held. It dawns on you suddenly that it’s most closely related to the same tone he uses when there’s a lump in his throat, usually there when sensitive subjects come to topic, like his insecurities, or Saki, or the Scarves, or any of his friends, or that one guy you saw once and never again (but he really gave you the creeps with his grin and his jacket that you’d see someone only from a movie wear, so you don’t mind never meeting him formally). It was that voice that was unsure, something like, “I’ll talk about it sometime, just not right now,” and you’d understand and lean against him and try to chase the sad away.

The way you know so much about him already makes you feel a little warmth heat up inside you, because it’s all the proof you need to believe that there really is a spot reserved for you somewhere in his heart.

Rummaging was heard in the next moment and you look up to see the blonde trifling through your cupboards for a glass and filling it up with milk. You lean against the wall and cross your arms and watch as the rest of the liquid goes into two cups which are then put into the microwave and set on low for a few seconds. You smile a little at his gesture and can’t help but let out a low laugh, feeling calm and yet like the biggest, most immature asshole of the century for the way you acted earlier. Not only that, but since it was kinda your fault Masaomi dropped your last hot drinks, you now don’t have milk for cereal or mac’n’cheese, so you don’t really know what you’re going to eat for dinner. Maybe you can ask him to buy you some chinese take out or sushi from the convenience store.

He hears your laugh, probably, and turns around after taking the glasses out from the microwave and setting them on the counter. Before you can stop yourself, you stop him from saying whatever he was about to say.

“Do.. you want to stay the night?” You ask. It’s innocently intended, he’s stayed over before. Two or three times in the months you’ve been around each other, really. You’ve been to his place too. You’ve never really done more than make out and never really pushed to go further so it’s still comfortable to have sleepovers, though sometimes you wonder if he doesn’t push for it because he’s uninterested. 

The question seemed to catch him off guard. He scratched his neck, probably wondering if you guys were in a fight or not and disbelieving that after the park incident you’d be up for something like that, because you shouldn’t let him, even if  you really want him to.

Masaomi began digging around in his pocket for his phone, “Yeah, actually. Let me make a call.” 

You reply with a grunt and watch his back as he steps out of the apartment door and presses the phone to his ear, closing the door behind him probably to ensure privacy. No matter how often he tries to escape, somehow the Scarves still manage to find him and ask him all these questions. Sometimes it feels like he’s more of a mother to them than a retired leader. He sometimes comes to you to complain about it all and you both laugh at the uncanniness of the situation. You start to reminisce in those times, which were months after your friendship started, but only a few weeks before this, whatever this was, began. You wonder if this was the end, yet again, because he hasn’t made talk like that in a while. He’s been more busy now, too.

Then it springs, the idea that everything is going downhill and he’s getting caught up in turf wars and other things you can’t really imagine.

There’s a loud thump, like someone banging a head or a fist or foot against something, the wall probably, followed by a muffled noise like yelling, only a few words are able to be made out but the whole scenario is too vague to understand. But you get it. He’s probably telling someone what to do. You glance at the milk and walk over to it, listening as the chatting gets quieter, under control, and pick up your glass and gingerly sip at it. It’s warm.

Another string of curses seem to fly by loudly before it goes dead silent on the other side of the door.

The door opens quickly, and Masaomi marches in but stops when when he sees you sipping cautiously at your drink and looking at him with wide eyes. He swallows and looks down and closes the door much more calmly than before, and then it seems like he puts something on over him because he’s got his previous smile back when he turns around

The tightness coiling in your gut clenched harder as he gets closer to you, and you struggle to push yourself into the countertop and you feel it dig into your back more, but his hand brushes your arm when he reaches for his cup and moves to stand next to you, and it all subsides in a moment as he mocks you, leaning against the counter as well.

It was quiet again. A silence like a pregnant mother. Big and thick and full of a wonderful, joyous conversation baby that kicked around a little with something like excitement. Though you were still nervous for whatever the topic was to come out, yet you want to let it out yourself, so you push for it before Masaomi gets the chance to go in and cut it out himself.

“You didn’t—” You choke out on the milk you just swallowed, and cough, trying again while looking at him for some sort of grounding response, “You didn’t have to stay, Masaomi,”

Honey eyes shaded darker, like a sweet caramel, and he looks into your watery hues before looking forward again. He drinks his glass tentatively, pulling a pouting face. “I wanted to stay.” He inhales sharply, shortly afterward, like the words punctured some sort of fragile glass barrier he had created. 

Nevertheless, you open your mouth to argue with his answer, but he cuts you off with a loud, “I mean it!”

Your circuits pound with the emotions flooding through and you can’t help a whimper when you turn to set the glass down and clutch the countertop tightly. You yell back at him.

“No, if you want to leave so bad then just go! I’m home already, you’ve seen to it that I’ve been taken care of, if you have more important things to be doing then… then just go do them.”

You see his hand move to rest over one of your straining grip, and feel the other hand hold your free hand, and his chest presses into your back. His nose nuzzles at your neck and breathes softly and it sends a chill down your spine, yet you have no complaint. It releases a small tension, and you let yourself relax a little. You note your breathing had become a little ragged, face awkwardly twisted. You feel like the epitome of pathetic right now. He cancelled his plans, yet you still lashed out.

You think you’ve hit your final point, you need answers, and your heart beats faster with every blow of air across your skin and it seems like maybe Masaomi is trying to control his breathing too, and you worry you might have made him mad, and his voice comes soon and it’s so calm that it is almost scary.

“Listen,” Masaomi started, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands. You feel yourself shake in his palms as he continues, “just listen.”

He tugs you back, pulling you tight to his chest as he switches you both around. He’s leaning against the counter again and holding your head close to him, and you’re really confused now. You try to call out but he only shushes you and a glance up proves to you that he’s a little embarrassed by something right now because his ears are red. Regardless, from here on you listen to him.

Nothing is said, however. You sit and you listen to the thumping of his heart, beating just as loud as yours is. You hear the sound of his breath coming out his nose, calculated as if he’s forcing himself to calm down and breathe right. It naturally evens out the longer you listen and sink into his grasp. You hear the fabric of clothes slide together a little and the small hum of the fridge running. You hear the sway in your hair as Masaomi pulls your blonde locks out of your hairband, letting it fall into place around your shoulders. You take it all in and more and it calms you down a considerable amount.

You hear the rumble of a hum in his chest, and the voice that continued on.

“I don’t know what’s gotten you so worked up, Len, but I’m not leaving.”

You were apart to start up again, but you couldn’t keep the will to do so. You just continued listening, as you felt the hand from your hair slide down to your back and rub soft circles into the lower, feeling the warmth from him and the cool of the room, the sun setting softly and all your emotions come toppling out at once, like the great Hoover Dam for your mind just broke and everything was getting sucked into a flood. 

You could cry.

You raise your head to look up at him and he catches your lips with his own, a soft kiss at first. Your breath is caught for a moment and your eyes slowly drift shut. You can’t help the spark of fire in your gut and it makes you press yourself closer, testing out waters here before you swim a little further. The idea seems to float, though, like a small boat. So you grab your paddles and rock yourself out.

Masaomi takes the initiative at this point, and nips softly at your bottom lip and the shiver that runs through you sends goosebumps all along your skin. A little sweat beads at the nape of your neck and you think it’s probably because you’re really closed off. Maybe irritated? Scared? You’re always like this, whenever things get really heavy. Confused, but for some reason you felt it more today than other days. Masaomi takes his time and you give each other a few closed and open mouthed kisses and when you let yourself open a little more, Masaomi pushes himself in for the kill and switches your position on the counters.

His hands worked their way up to your shoulder blades, kneading his digits into them as you give a soft moan that’s harshly swallowed by another kiss. Your legs tangle together and you sigh when you can get a breath, and when he comes back you feel a tongue lick your lips and your head is getting fuzzy so you open your mouth and it delves in without hesitation. Your own appendage slips around his for a moment, a little shaky. You’re nervous and he knows you are, and he’s probably drinking it up, but it doesn’t stop him from being gentle and trying to coax your muscles into relaxing and joining him in a small dance. You follow his lead, and tilt your head and it’s getting more comfortable for you so you put a little more force the third time he comes back after breathing, and he picks up what you want, hitching himself up on your thigh a little and rubbing.

That startled you a bit, and you let out a noise into the kiss, though it’s muffled by his tongue in your mouth and it only then dawns on you that you’ve been playing tonsil hockey so long that there’s a heat pooling in your gut and the realisation makes your face warm again. Masaomi pulls back and focuses a little on shifting your positions, and you’re both panting hard. He doesn’t stop to cool down, and presses in and you hiss sharply because he’s got a hand on your hip and it’s the bruised one. The worst part is that it doesn’t turn you off as much as you thought it would, in fact, quite the opposite, and when Masaomi notes that, he goes to rub the area softly, tugging your shirt up and away from your hip, and he licks your neck.

His voice is rugged, “Nice bruise you got there,” and he breathes deeply into your ear with every word so much that you shake a little and you want to retort, but he’s poking at it again and you can feel more than his fingers prodding your hips, and it doesn’t help your own problem beginning to form.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hoist yourself up, finally finding the will through all his incessant poking. Your legs wrap around his waist and hands find their way to his face, feeling his chin and dragging him in for another kiss. There’s tongue instantly, and you’re pressing into each other so much that it’s really a bruising force on your lips, and when you pull away again, there’s a little bit of drool escaping and you wipe at it with the back of your hand. Masaomi chuckles and moves a hand to rub at the front of your pants and for once you’re thankful you wore flannel pyjama bottoms because holy shit, you’d hate to be wearing jeans right now and if that touch hadn’t brought out one of the most neediest moans ever from you, then you’re not sure you know what would. 

You use your legs wrapped around him to hug yourself closer, and grind a little into his stomach, panting. You slow down and realise he seems to be preoccupied at the moment unbuttoning his jeans and getting to zipper down, and you look down then make a noise low in your throat at the cute little tip of a dick at perks up from the top of his boxers and wow he’s already so hard just from a little grinding and kissing? You find yourself staring because you’ve never seen a dick that wasn’t yours before, you’ve never seen his dick before and you don’t know what to do, your head is spinning this is all going so fast, someone help.

And then Masaomi is lifting you off the counter and you’re squeaking again and holding on tighter and he leads you both to the couch before dropping you off on it. You look up at him and he’s a little flushed and his hair is disheveled and you feel yourself smirk at the sight. There’s a moment when you wonder if he’s fast, but he was the one doing most of the movement back there so that’s probably why he’s all worked up.

Regardless, all your thoughts slip from your mind the moment his hands start to trace little patterns onto the skin right below your navel, and you shiver and tilt your head a little. He leans down when you do, and you feel him trickle heavy pants across your neck before his fingers flatten against your abdomen and work up and rub at your sides. You choke a little on your breath because it tickles there but it’s so soft it makes you shiver and wiggle a little, but he keeps the touch so light it’s like a feather and you gasp out. 

There’s a lick to your neck that draws you back from the hands playing at your ribs, almost counting each bone they passed, and you move your head a little further to the side. The licks continue, lapping at the spot slowly and you sort of wonder for a moment what’s going on inside Masaomi’s head and then you feel a harsh sting of pain, but it isn’t painful, and you don’t know how to describe it. His teeth sink in a little and you feel it and you know there are going to be teeth marks and bruises for a while at the junction between neck and shoulder from it and you cry out loudly. The whole thing wasn’t an unpleasant experience and not a moment after, Masaomi brings his hips down to yours and grinds in a slow circle and kisses to spot that was bitten, like an apology, and your head is swirling. His hips continue to move and you can’t stop the few bucks you give upward and it only continues to press into your bruise and your breathing so hard it’s a surprise that you’re still conscious. 

You bury your face into Masaomi’s shoulder and relish being held so close for once. You shiver and whine a little and fight to not lose your sense, because this moment is so lovely, and he begins with soft lulls and quiet murmurs and it’s making you slip through the world like sand straining through fingers or water raining and yet through this all you’re panting and gasping and you can’t help yourself from asking the one question you want the answer to.

“Wh— ah.. What are we?”

The question, as you expected, made Masaomi freeze up. A lot. After a minute, he re-adjusts himself and continues what he was doing before, but this time you can feel a smile being pressed into a kiss to the crown of your head and it made you melt all over again. It makes you irritated, because you have no idea what he’s smiling about. He mumbles something and asks if you’re really that dense and that makes you a little irritated, but you pretend not to hear. Instead you focus on the laugh that bubbled past Masaomi’s lips that was so sweet and honest and even if it contused you more you find peace in it.

The time you get to see his face again is when he holds himself up above you for a moment and he pulls your member out of your pants and if you weren’t so hot in the face and hot just about everywhere else, you would have been more embarrassed with the look he gave to seeing your dick. Instead you just shiver and he runs his fingers along the tip and you can’t help but forget you had ever spoken in the first place. He gives a slow pump to your shaft and you just want to touch him too, so you lean up and press a kiss to his pursed lips and lick along the seam and taste something coppery and you wonder if it was from when he bit out but he squeezes his hand and once again all your thoughts leave you and you’re floating and grinding into his fist.

Shaking and fighting a bit to get your hands where you wanted them too, you tug his jeans by their belt loops down a little, past his hips and let his boxers follow and then you’re gripping him too, and he’s hissing into your ear and leaning forward, pressing his chest into yours and you’re well aware you’re both jacking each other off and the thought almost strikes you as something to laugh at. You move your hand away and hear a whine from Masaomi and you press your forehead to his and move his hand from what it was doing and you’re not gonna lie, you compare your dicks and there aren’t too many differences, but you’re a little shorter and his is thicker at the base and you start feeling a little self conscious about yours. 

He probably sees you staring and you move to kiss him and he lays completely on top of you and you groan and even whimper again. His hips snap up and down against yours and he’s kissing at the spot behind your ear and then moving along your jaw and up to your lips and when you lick over his teeth and the roof of his mouth, his tongue starts to fight yours and his hands hold your hips still and he just won’t stop furiously jutting against you. You’re so overwhelmed by too many different sensations you pant into his mouth and he slows his pace.

One hand moves from your hip to grip around the both of you and you give a big moan and it only takes a few more pumps before the coiling in your gut tightens and you feel Masaomi shiver and he pulls away, panting just as much as you are and groaning. The look on his face is so lewd and he focuses harder on stroking you both but his hips grind and he finishes before you. He’s working his fist to let himself ride it out and he’s regaining his breath before his hand picks up it’s pace around just you and not too long afterwards you can’t feel or think or see anything and you tilt your head back and let out a soft cry and another moan and your hips shake and he keeps going until you’re clawing at his arm because now you’re over-sensitive and he’s laughing and wiping his hands off on his shirt to which you make a nasty face at.

He sits up a little, purposefully brushing against you in a way that makes you jump and tremble and he only laughs again as he takes his shirt off and wipes you both down a little more before throwing it somewhere on the floor and you’re too tired to bother with it right now. He tucks you both back into your pants and then he lays on top of you, and you’re more than exhausted because you haven’t eaten anything all day and you really wonder if Masaomi has money for something because Chinese still seems really really good right now.

You let your fingers run through his hair and he’s sweaty. You’re probably sweaty too. You try to roll your shoulders but then you hiss in pain and try to turn your head but you can’t see anything more than some swollen area and you groan but deep down you think it’s going to be a really pretty mark on your skin and you can’t help the jittery feeling in your stomach.

“It’s been how long?” He finally asks after a while. It drags you out of your thoughts. “How long were you wondering about that?”

You shrug and wince and he pulls away a little. “It’s been a few months, I guess, since around the time we started, um, doing a little more,” You look down between the two of you, back up, and he leans into you again to where his ear is pressed against your chest. Your face is plastered with the fact that you’re too shy to talk about this, and you don’t know where it came from and it still doesn’t feel like it happened but it’s sinking in and you don’t know how you feel at all anymore. He just laughs again and then sighs.

“I thought you were mad because the gangs are popping up again so there wasn’t time left to hang out?” He tugs you back softly and sticks his tongue out at you, “I didn’t realise that after this long you still wouldn’t think we were dating.”

You chirp.

“Honestly, I guess I’m bad at this ‘official’ stuff,” You cut him off with a snort and a sarcastic “really”. Masaomi grunts and blows a raspberry kiss to the underside of your jaw and you screech softly and crinkle your nose up because that’s just too gross. But you’re both laughing for a few minutes and then it goes silent again.

“I thought it was fine, that I was fine? But the more I thought about it the more I realised, that maybe you did not... like me as much as I wanted?” You sniff and before he can reply to that you press a finger to his lips, “I mean, for all I knew you could like girls more than me, and you kept flirting a lot, I don’t know what I was supposed to think. Without anything really being declared, I couldn’t just go up and do something about it.”

“So you were jealous?”

You chirp again. That word probably describes a lot of what you were, but it’s so ugly, even though you had the reason to be jealous in the first place. You’re hoarse to the voice when you go to respond, “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t know it was that unclear, Len,” He rubs the spot on your side right above your hip-bruise. It’s soft and you feel happy, but the sudden shift of the room’s aura was disorienting. You keep yourself holding onto him and he continues off a short laugh, “I guess I got caught up in tying off loose ends that I couldn’t really see.”

There was almost an implied question mark at the end, and you feel the need to pick up from there and continue sorting things out, but the moment you open up to speak, you close it and go red from your neck to the tip of your ears, because all you’ve been doing is over analysing the situation from beginning to now. It made sense that things must be kicking up, since new people have started to move in and other gangs started fighting to expand their turf. It was in the paper, on the news, even Masaomi has complained once or twice about Scarves’ members calling him. From the beginning you knew what you were getting into, he told you right away because he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. 

It didn’t make all the worry or hurt dull but the fact you’re only now letting everything sink into place, it feels like sharp talons in your stomach, biting into you and squeezing and not letting go.

“It was... not that...” You take a breath before correcting your tone of voice and continuing, “It should have been more obvious to me, but I was just thinking too much. Any time we went out people would approach you and even though it was my turn you always kept talking with them and I thought it was your way of saying that we weren’t really that big of a deal.”

You gasp then, and bury your mouth into his shoulder because wow, that sounded so immature, you just sound so childish and possessive. You could go lightheaded any minute from the way the blood flushes to your head and you don’t have any support or strength to keep the heat away. It didn’t seem like Masaomi was angry at your statement, however, so that was good. But the moment you quit talking is the moment he chuckles and pats your head and replies with gusto.

“Most of those people were people from the Scarves, Len. I don’t want to get you too involved, so,” His voice gets a little lower but still, it all clicks. He’s being cautious, and you can respect that. Though it also just got really awkward on your side, and you think that you made it that way, because you are so totally, irrevocably awkward that it’s was painful. 

“If you really.. do not want to have this conversation right now, then I’m fine without labels, but just know that I’m attached, Masaomi,” You need to know what’s in store, and at this point you want everything and nothing at all, but what you mainly expect, “and I expect you to take full responsibility.”

There was a nod on the other end, and some more silence. It felt like forever before Masaomi actually said something in reply, but when he does you have to ask for a double take, because you didn’t quite catch what he said. Instead, he dives in and lifts your shirt up to your chest and he takes a breath and blows right onto your sternum you’re startled and kicking a little and yelling at him to stop that and he’s laughing to himself and it makes a whole swarm of butterflies kickstart in your stomach again. He stops slowly and leaves a big lick right up the middle of your chest and you squeak because he follows up quickly and is blowing on the trail up to the skin of your neck just below your ear and you get goosebumps, because that’s cold and it tickles Masaomi, stop it! You guys already did it once.

After a moment he does stop completely and you stop too and look at him in the eyes, dead on. 

“I said… that we should just be boyfriends.”

You snort again for the umpteenth time that day but your smile grows incredibly wide and you wrap your arms around Masaomi and tug him down onto you and burrow your nose into his neck and it smells sweet like vanilla but with a hint of cinnamon and you have never felt more content in your life.

The both of you fell asleep shortly afterward and wake up a couple hours later. When Masaomi gets off of you, the first thing you do is run to the bathroom and look at your neck. There isn’t a lot of swelling, truth be told, you expected more, but there’s a little bit of dry blood and it’s turned a weird greenish yellow colour with a few accents of red here in there and it makes you wince that you can see clear teeth marks at the same time. Regardless, you’re really interested in it. You poke around a little and hiss and you wash it off a little bit, and clean around it with disinfectant wipes from under the counter and that really stung. Masaomi came in to see what you were doing and for a moment you feel like he’s ashamed of what he’s done but you bite your lip and smile when you finish touching it up. You peek at your hip and it’s more swollen than the bite at your neck. You take off your shirt and keep it off because whenever it rubs at your neck it makes you shiver.

At around six you whine to Masaomi that your stomach is empty and he rolls his eyes at you and pulls out his wallet and he jokes that there was a sparkle to you the moment he did. You pout and tell him that you can’t help it because you couldn’t eat anything most of today. He shortly inquires why, but you just tell him your nerves were worked up so much and you settled for sleeping in. He kisses your pout.

You call in to a chinese restaurant called Mars and Masaomi cracks a joke that you’re getting food from Mars! And you laugh at it but you’re so strangely content right now that you don’t know how to handle yourself. It’s such an odd feeling that you’ve never felt before and you don’t know if you like it, but you certainly don’t hate it at all. You figure that you’ll feel better after a full stomach as Masaomi picks out one of the cartoon movies you have sitting around on your shelf, because cartoon movies are all you watch unless someone brings something else. You just like little fantasy worlds to escape in from time to time, that’s all.

When the food actually arrives to your apartment you’re far past starving, rolling around on the floor as Masaomi pays and sends the delivery guy on his way back. He sets the food down on the coffee table and starts to pull things out one by one and you take it all in with your eyes and Masaomi hands you a pair of chopsticks. You give thanks for the food before going straight for the rice and Masaomi stops eating some fried vegetables momentarily to go get you both some water.

He hands you your cup and your hands touch a little and it makes you smile and you thank him, taking a drink before setting it down and when Masaomi sits back down across from you, you actually notice that he’s a little red.

You give him that “question mark” face, and he goes back to shoveling a little bit of food into his mouth. You fluff up like an angry bird when he does and he swallows and looks at you.

“Why aren’t you putting a shirt on,” His gaze almost refuses to meet yours and you raise an eyebrow, “it’s cold, shouldn’t you wear something?”

Once again you’re filled with confusion, “I’m not wearing a shirt because it irritates the little friend you gave me,” Wonder if that’s what he’s ruffled about crosses your mind now, because his face heats up all over again as he goes to eat and you can’t help but let out a laugh. “besides, if I get cold I have you to warm me up. Right?”

He looks at you with a sort of apprehension and he points to the spot on his neck where the bite is on yours, “It doesn’t hurt that bad, though, right?” Pause, a look at you to reaffirm his sentence but you don’t. “Does it? I’m sorry, Len, I just got carried earlier.”

“No! No, that is alright,” You set your rice and chopsticks down separately. You’re sitting criss cross on the floor and you rub your thighs a little bit and bite your lip trying to figure out how to word what you want to say right. “In fact, I really liked it. Being bitten. Uh, and when you poked at my bruise, I really wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

At this point, you can’t really look him in the eye because if you did you probably would turn into a tomato. You’re already fighting heat in your face because you imagined your first time doing something like that with him and you imagined doing it again and even more so and it never really dawned on you before but you guys can do that thing again. It felt really nice for you and you’re assuming it was nice for Masaomi too, but the fact that something like that isn’t going to be a one-time thing sort of makes something start in your chest and you let out an honest smile.

You move to open up a side of sliced Char siu and toss a few pieces into your rice container and Masaomi scoots himself forward across the table to grab some for himself. You look at him then, and he’s sort of smirking to himself, and you wonder what he’s thinking. He looks at you intently, and you squirm a little in your place like you’re a tiny ant being crushed under the weight of his gaze, and that probably only makes him stare harder and you feign another pout, but he only grins at you and makes an offhand comment that you look good marked up like that.

It startles you at first that he went from feeling regretful about his bite to thinking it suited you, but maybe he was worried you wouldn’t like it. Wasn’t it said before that people show their true colours in the heat of the moment when their guards were down? You can’t remember, and you can’t really bring yourself to care all too much, but you sort of dance around sitting down and ask him if he really meant what he said, and Masaomi only continues to say that the dark bruises really show up against your pale skin and he backs up the comment by putting out that he can get a little possessive. You mutter that you don’t mind if he bites you up so long as you have time to recover.

The rest of your mean goes by with little jokes being tossed here and there and you talk about your plans for the week. It’s still break for you and you have nothing to do before school starts, but you’re happy to almost be graduating and Masaomi makes it a show to tell you that he’s already done with school and you laugh. He asks if it’s alright if he stays the week since today was really the only time he had something to do late in the evening, he has a couple hours of work for the rest of the week but it’s in the morning from nine to noon because it’s just a part time job.

You’re excited regardless and tell him he can take the spare key for his own copy.

Masaomi cleans up dinner mess and you ask him if he wants you to unfold the couch, but he pulls a cheeky grin and asks why not just share the bed? You laugh as a reply and remark that if he could keep his hands to himself you wouldn’t mind sleeping in the same bed but he rolls his eyes because both of you know that you’re going to be sleeping next to each other one way or another, it always ends up like that anyways. So you refill your water bottle and go to your room to pick up a few things off the ground and toss them in a little basket by the corner and make your bed up a little. 

It’s just a mattress on the ground but you have a ton of blankets and pillows and a few stuffed animals still (a few were given to you as a young android, so you’re really attached to them, albeit most of them were given to you by Masaomi). 

He comes in a few minutes after and lays down, and makes an effort to disrupt your attempts at a nice bed. You put your hands on your hips and grunt at him angrily and he only laughs and grabs your arm and pulls you down on top of him. He lets you know that he’s turned off all the lights out there and everything was cleaned up and you thank him with a soft kiss. You climb under mountains of covers with masaomi after he changes into a pair of your pyjama pants, that are actually just his, you borrowed them and never gave them back and declared them as yours.He’s careful of your neck and your hip and it’s easy for you to rest against his chest because all your bruises are on one side of your body so you’re not uncomfortable however you lay.

You seem to fuse into each other as he throws a hand around your waist and presses close, and it’s only half past nine but you’re both incredibly exhausted still it seems and with a full gut it only makes you that much more tired. His breath and his heartbeat against your back and the way he falls asleep fairly fast makes you calm easily and instead of replaying the day’s events over countlessly you find yourself slipping into the strong embrace of sleep and you can’t drag yourself back out right now, you don’t have the energy to.

The fact that you have jack squat milk for cereal in the morning is the last thing you think about while falling into solace.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr.   
>  i pay more attention to tumblr than this, so, if you liked it, reblog it, mayhaps.
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>  [**Landfill** | _lnterplay_ on Tumblr](http://lnterplay.tumblr.com/post/81110510779)  
> 


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